


pining in anticipation

by knopeswann



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: F/M, Steve Trevor Lives, domestic as hell, i got this idea from watching too much dceu, mentions of justice leaguers - Freeform, modern day steve trevor, shh we don't question why steve is back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knopeswann/pseuds/knopeswann
Summary: Steve loves everything about Diana. Her compassion, her bravery, her capacity to love. Her smile and her laugh. And he also, really loves her hair.In which Steve is living in the modern day with Diana and doesn't understand certain style choices.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Steve Trevor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	pining in anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! This idea popped into my head recently while rewatching all the DCEU movies in prep for the Snyder cut. I noticed that Diana never wears her hair down in the modern day when she's just being Diana. Coincidence? I think not! And thus, because Steve Trevor is always alive and well in my head canon, this fic was born. :)

_All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation_   
_My hands are shaking from holding back from you_

* * *

“Why do you always do that?” Diana’s hands stilled around the ponytail she had been making, looking up to meet Steve’s eyes in the bathroom mirror.

He was watching her curiously as he leaned against the door frame, arms resting across his chest. While Diana had been awake for some time already, old habits not allowing her to rest past dawn even after all these years, Steve slept in a little later on most mornings. She could tell he’d just woken up in the past few minutes, the sleep not quite gone from his impossibly blue eyes. He yawned and stretched, white T-shirt rising slightly to reveal a patch of toned and tanned skin between it and the waistband of his sweatpants. She didn't mind the view one bit.

She paused, removing the two bobby-pins from between her teeth and placing them on the marble counter before turning slightly towards Steve.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Mr. Trevor,” she replied with a smirk. “Why am I always doing what?”

She turned back to the mirror, grabbing one of the bobby-pins off the counter as she set to work securing a piece of hair around the hair elastic to conceal it. He stepped into the bathroom then, meeting her beside the bathroom counter and handing her the second bobby-pin. She nodded her head in thanks, meeting his eyes thoughtfully in the mirror again as she inspected her handiwork.

“Why do you always pull your hair up? You never used to wear it that way.”

She smiled at him then, watching him watch her with utter fascination as she readied herself for work. He’d taken to doing this in the past few weeks, endlessly curious about her morning routine. She wasn't sure why exactly- whether the process of putting on makeup and doing her hair was actually that interesting, or just to soak in every possible second with her- she couldn't say. Not that she minded though. Since Steve had returned four months ago, she craved every single second she could spend with him.

“Well,” she began, dotting bits of concealer under her eyes, “Practicality’s sake, I guess. It stays out of my face when I wear it like this.”

He snorted, amused. “Yeah, right."

She glared at him pointedly.

"Diana, I’ve seen you flip an actual tank with your hair down. I’m just saying, I didn’t really think practicality factored much into your style choices.” He glanced at her black patent stilettos, as if to emphasize his point.

“Well, people see what they want to see,” she offered, pumping her mascara wand, “I still look like I did then when I’m being Wonder Woman. When I’m just me, just Diana, I like to look as different from that as possible. Hence, the hair.”

She glanced at him in the mirror to catch a skeptical look cross his features. “Seriously? Your _hairstyle_ keeps people from figuring out you’re Wonder Woman?”

“Clark wears glasses,” she quipped.

“And that’s unbelievable too! All this technology and these people are fooled by glasses and hair?”

She took one last appraising glance in the mirror before turning to him, leveling him with a knowing gaze. “Steve, _you_ gave me a pair of glasses at Selfridge’s to make me blend in. I don’t believe you have any room to judge here.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then shut it just as quickly. _Damn, she had a point_.

He stepped closer, taking a lock from her ponytail between his fingers tenderly. “I just really like your hair. It doesn’t deserve to be in this... hair prison,” he grumbled, absentmindedly twirling the strands.

Diana leaned forward as she laughed, placing a light kiss on his cheek. _Stubble_ , she thought. _He’d have to fix that before tonight_.

She grabbed her cellphone off the counter and placed it in her back pocket, flicking the bathroom lights off as she brushed past him into the bedroom.

“So what are your plans for the day?” She called over her shoulder as she opened the closet door and grabbed the black garment bag draped over the hook.

“More computer classes with Vic. And I think Barry has somehow convinced him that meme culture is important enough to warrant a lesson, so he might be coming on the call later. I’m not even sure why it has its own culture. It’s just pictures with words on it.”

“It’s supposed to be funny,” she offered.

“Well, I’m not sure I’m quite there yet with this century’s humor.”

He padded across the bedroom, heading toward the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “Is there any coffee left, or do I need to brew some more?”

She appeared behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder as he rifled through the cabinet for his favorite mug.

“You know, you could always just turn the Keurig on and it will make you one cup at a time. It’s _veeeery_ convenient,” she sing-songed before turning away, gathering the garment bag over one arm and slinging her purse over the other.

“Coffee is meant to be consumed by the potful. This pod nonsense is just sacrilege..” he grumbled as he turned on the old coffee machine and spooned coffee grounds into the filter.

“Okay, I’m off. Are you sure you have everything ready for the gala tonight? You made sure your suit fit? Do you need me to show you how to use Uber again?” Diana bit her lip, worrying the skin there as she rattled off her mental checklist.

“Yes, yes and yes. If I forget, I’ll get Barry to show me. Although I’m still not sure why you won’t let me just take the bike,” he teased.

Ah, the bike. One of the first purchases for Steve to give him some semblance of independence in this strange new world. He may not understand a meme from a gif, but his motorcycle knows practically every twist and turn in Paris by now.

She glared at him as she adjusted the garment bag slung over arm, “We’ve gone over this a thousand times. You cannot show up to a black tie gala on a motorcycle.”

“ _Wellll_ we wouldn’t have this issue if we’d be arriving together, now would we?” He countered.

 _There it was_ , she thought. Ever since she mentioned last week that she would have to meet him at the gala as she had too many last minute details to finish, he’d been just a little extra pouty. They’d attended one gala so far, and while Steve was a great actor and a good sport, she could tell it had made him a little apprehensive. All those strangers asking questions while he was still slowly navigating his way through the 21st century? She couldn’t blame him, per say. But there was nothing to be done. She wasn’t too keen on getting ready for this evening in her office, if she was being honest. She sighed, double checking she had everything she needed.

She turned and placed a kiss on his lips as she pulled open the apartment door. “I love you. I’ll see you tonight- and don't forget to shave!”

* * *

Steve tugged nervously at his lapels as he reclined in the back of the Uber, then checked his watch for the 5th time in as many minutes.

 _Right on time_ , he thought. He briefly thanked the driver in French as they pulled a stop at the entrance to the gala.

The crowd was already a sea of people in black tuxes and radiant evening gowns, the street lamps catching the glittering jewels adorning the party guests. Steve knew galas. He was a spy, after all. The one he’d attended with Diana all those years ago certainly hadn’t been his first, and he could charm almost every fool in a room, from the middle aged oil magnates to their unhappy wives and all the types in between. He knew exactly what to say to have even the sourest of party goers chuckling in merriment in five minutes flat. 

But never did he expect to be thrust back into this type of crowd while simultaneously playing catch up on an entire century’s worth of history.

He just had to avoid as much small talk as possible and find Diana. _Quickly_ , he amended to himself. He briefly considered sending her a text that he had arrived, and perhaps could they arrange a meeting spot, before reconsidering- she’d probably be already mingling with guests, and Diana was too polite to check her phone during a conversation, even if he were on the other end.

Steve smoothed his lapels one last time and began to make his way through the crowd, nodding and murmuring a “good evening, good to see you” where appropriate. Of course, he had absolutely no idea who any of these people were, but social niceties hadn’t changed that much in 100 years, thankfully for his sake.

As he made his way into the gallery, he swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and began to scan the crowd for Diana. She was usually easy to pick out- her natural height already gave her an advantage, and her penchant for sky high heels made her quite the standout in any crowd. And that wasn’t even to mention her beauty, which was nearly impossible to ignore under any circumstances.

He found himself squinting toward a far corner of the gallery, catching a glimpse of dark hair but needing a closer look, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Oh, excuse me, am I in your...” the words died on his tongue as he turned around to see Diana smiling at him, a vision in a midnight blue silk dress that draped across her body in the most delicious way- from the deep V of her wrapped bodice to the slit that went way up to _there_. He gulped, shaking his head slightly as if he needed to snap himself back to reality. How did he get so lucky as to call this woman his?

“Hey, stranger,” she said, lightly taking his arm as she placed a chaste kiss to his lips, “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Diana,” he breathed, “you look...” his eyes went wide, realization dawning on his face, “your hair is down.”

And then suddenly all he wanted to do right then and there was rake his hands through her hair; wanted to bury his face in its dark depths. He wanted to breathe in her scent and everything she is as he trailed kisses from her jaw down her chest to the V of her bodice, and lower still...

She smiled knowingly, the hint of a tease playing across her features, “No one really expects to see Wonder Woman in an evening gown at an art gallery, so I thought it would be safe for the evening... do you like it?”

He leaned close to her then, close enough to feel his hot breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, “You are so lucky we are in public right now, otherwise that dress would not last another two minutes.”

A chill ran up her spine as her mind flashed through all the possibilities that could occur from that statement. It actually seemed a pity to be in public, she mused.

He moved away then, taking a deep steadying breath. “So how long do we have to stay? I have uh, some other evening plans that require your attendance.”

She laughed, threading her arm through his and guiding him through the throng of guests, smiling and nodding at a few as they passed by.

“You just got here, and I am in desperate need of your conversation skills. I haven’t had a conversation yet that didn’t involve some benefactor bragging about his large donation or not so subtly staring at my chest.”

Steve cleared his throat dramatically.

“Well, I’d be willing to offer two hours of my service in exchange for you attending what I have planned later this evening. But...” he paused, lowering his voice, “I cannot promise that I will not be staring at your chest.”

She chuckled, squeezing his arm as two guests approached them, already waving and exclaiming “Mademoiselle Prince!”

“I suppose that’s fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. xoxo


End file.
